It’s a fine day for a meeting.

  Truthfully, I don’t know what makes meeting weather. I imagine that when a group plans to decide the fate of a city, they ought to be in a cheery mood. For that, the bright spring sunshine and the few fluffy clouds drifting through the blue sky are perfect. It’s the kind of day that should be spent on a field of grass, enjoying the warmth with good food and better company. But if business has to be done, it’s the kind of day to ease the burden of leadership.

  I can only thank the saints for aiding me that the Temple representatives decided to show up the day before—a gloomier day with a hint of breeze. I’m not so boorish as to demand people drop everything and run to me. Truly, a day is short notice for those with busy schedules, but it’s the most courtesy I can offer.

  After a brief walk around the estate to absorb the peaceful morning, I enthusiastically throw myself into my part of the preparations—which is just getting ready. I don’t even do it on my own, as Talia gets far too much pleasure dressing us to deny her the opportunity. The succubi busy themselves in the kitchen, preparing a large breakfast for the full house and treats for later. The servants—namely Earl—prepare the materials for the meeting, including his setup to record the proceedings. One of my measures to look after the city in my absence.

  Record keeping is rare, usually only done for royal edicts or the rare times someone manages to drag a noble before the king for judgment. Not in New Quest. Every meeting. Every sentence. I don’t care if they have to write it on the sides of buildings—everything will be recorded. Everything will be able to be held up to the light. Scum thrive in darkness, and idiots prosper only when no one holds them to account.

  Funny. The last time I prepared for so many guests, it was for a wanton party meant to celebrate my being a wanted woman by the man whose home I was currently living in. A sweet farewell to a life that could have been.

  The other actors in the scene arrive throughout the morning. The first to arrive is a golden carriage, pulled by large white stallions, their brilliant coats unmarred by the chaos of the city. Marcella disembarks with a stoic young man at her side—remarkable only in how unremarkable he is, like a stick by the side of the road next to the noblewoman’s abundant charms. His subdued presence and place one step behind her convince me he’s some sort of assistant. She greets us but quickly focuses her attention on Maxine, pulling her sister aside into whispered conversation. Looking for information? Fishing for an ally? I don’t blame her. For once, she doesn’t have any advantages, and I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s making the merchant a little uneasy.

  The hunters’ arrival is the opposite of Marcella’s elegance. They arrive a dozen strong; four of them ride in a large wagon that’s slowly pulled while the younger, fitter group walks beside it. They are dirty and disheveled, but deadly serious. They at least have the manners to wipe their boots before trooping through the estate—for all the good it does.

  And finally, Butterfly arrives, riding behind a knight dressed in gold. Unlike the others, the woman has no tension, lazily greeting us and immediately finding a seat to slouch in. It’s the action of someone without a care in the world. Usually, I expect to see that kind of attitude in the confident—a person who knows they’re going to win before someone even suggests playing. Something that would make sense for the Butterfly, a seer. But no. I’m still uneasy about her abilities, but I believe her when she says she doesn’t intend to interfere. Everything about her that I can read screams resignation. She doesn’t care because she’s given up. I wonder why. Does she think she’s too weak to affect the future? Or is the future where she interferes that much worse? Either way, she’s a witness, not a participant.

  With the addition of the Temple representatives, the gathering is too large for my dining table. I guide everyone to the sitting room, Geneva arranging chairs around the couches and setting out small trays of snacks. They naturally break apart into their own groups—my family included. My lovers take up one of the couches while Morgene sits apart from everyone else, her chair beside a private snack table. She’s gotten a few looks, but her casual glare is enough to keep anyone from approaching.

  Once everyone is settled, I stand in front of them. They all fall silent, the hunters jostling those who don’t catch on quickly, too busy stuffing their faces. And isn’t that gratifying.

  I quickly scan the room. Right on time, Earl enters, taking his place at a table near the back. I wait until he has his paper and smudgesticks ready before I begin.

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  “Thank you, everyone, for coming.” I swallow the urge to apologize for the short notice, channeling Morgene’s scant lessons on leadership. I don’t agree with most of her philosophy, but I don’t disagree with her insistence that a leader should present a strong image. But I’m not so far gone that I can’t acknowledge when I’ve done wrong. That way lies Grimoires.

  “I appreciate you all giving your time on short notice. It was a bit messy arranging this, but we live in messy times. And the reason we’ve gathered today is because we all have a vested interest in cleaning up the city—in making it better than before.”

  Ehh. Their expressions aren’t even twitching. This is my first time, you know? They could at least smile a bit, give me a little encouragement.

  “This likely doesn’t need to be said, but, for formality’s sake, allow me to make an announcement before we begin. By order of the king, I have been given governing power over the city and its surrounding territories. That means I am the first and final authority on the city. You are here to listen. However, I won’t discount your assorted wisdom. I will give you chances to speak. Each of you came here with goals. You might be able to achieve them—but only if they fit within my vision. Keep that in mind.”

  Still no smiles, but I expected them to fade at this point. We’re only getting started though. By the end of this, I’m sure everyone but the Temple is going to hate my guts—if they don’t already.

  One of the hunters who isn’t Grayskin—ergo probably unimportant—tries to speak, but I talk right over him. “We’ve got a lot to get through, so let’s keep the questions to a minimum and the requests in written form. Okay? Great. First and most important, the city. Namely, the lack of one. We need to rebuild, and I have a vision—one that’s a little different.”

  That’s the signal for Bell to approach. My succubi are eminently capable. They have yet to fail in a request I’ve asked of them, even something as obscure as creating paper. However, they do have limits to their personal abilities. Given the time and resources, I have no doubt they could drown Harvest in paper and make an obscene amount of money doing it. However, sparing only a few hours during the week means there isn’t enough to hand out maps to each of the attendees.

  Still, my cute imp can demonstrate my vision. She rolls a square slab of earth to the front of the room, parking it beside me. One of her claws touches the flat surface, and it morphs—the dirt flowing and folding until it resembles my imagination, the master earth caster going far enough to give her representation texture and hints of color.

  “My design takes inspiration from the capital. To those who haven’t been there, it means promoting order through division—walls and rings divvying up the city neatly. I want to do this for two reasons. First, it makes the city easy to navigate. No more businesses jockeying for the best position and smashing together in a mess. Artisan ring for the crafters, with corresponding markets. Residential ring broken into blocks with markets for household needs. Important buildings and uselessly big houses in the center. Easy, right? Of course it is.

  “Now, I’ve anticipated a few questions you all might have. What happens to the land you own if it’s being reworked and built on? Don’t worry about it! You don’t own it anymore.”

  A few members of the audience squawk in outrage, their complaints combining into a senseless murmur of discontent.

  “Alright, alright. Just...hold on...let me...SHUT UP!”

  The room quiets at my shout, the adults flinching like scolded children.

  “My priorities for New Quest—that’s the city’s name, by the way—are making sure everyone’s fed, clothed, and safe. Not making you all happy. That doesn’t mean I don’t care about your efforts, over a lifetime or just following the city’s, ah, troubles.” My eyes cut to Marcella, who I know has spent quite the fortune amassing deeds. She doesn’t look happy, but to her credit, she holds back her complaints.

  “My intentions are to take a census of the survivors and assign them living arrangements. This will be in large buildings designed to house multiple families. Individual residences will come later, and plots will be left for custom builds. That’s where your deeds and whatnot come in.

  “Those who can produce authentic deeds will be given, er, let’s call it land credit. With that land credit, you can buy a corresponding plot of land of equal value. If you have a deed to a shop, you can buy a shop. However, you will be restricted by the zone’s purpose. If you buy a shop in the blacksmithing quarter, you better be selling metal. You’ll also be restricted by status. No buying a plot in the noble quarter, you know? Aside from that, as with all things, this is a market. If two people want the same plot, they can bid on it. Highest bid wins, and the house takes a bidding fee equal to the losing bid. Oh, don’t look at me like that. If I don’t, I know you bastards will work together to drive up the prices against someone with an overwhelming advantage—like, say, an enterprising merchant that bought up half the city.”

  Marcella looks much happier, intelligent gray eyes shining with calculation as she leans toward her assistant, whispering through a smile. Yeah, yeah, she’s got all the cards. Hope she doesn’t let it get to her head. The bidding fee is small. If her opponents are strategic, they can still make trouble. Then again, she wouldn’t have been entrusted with the city by her father if she weren’t capable.

  “That covers living arrangements. But, as you can see, there’s a lot of green on my map.” I tap a ring of trees. “That’s because I’ve had a wonderful idea—something that will turn the city from a necessity into a work of art, an experience. New Quest won’t just be a haven for hunters and magic enthusiasts, but also for lovers of the wilds. New Quest...will be a Sanctuary.”

  Once more, the room erupts.